Page 131 of The Mask Falling

“That is not enough,” Arcturus said.

My mind raced. “Could Rephaim tolerateanyEmite blood without turning?”

“A drop or two.”

“It must be concealing more of them.” With great effort, I strained my sixth sense, to no avail. “If Jaxon has distributed it—if he’s using it himself—then he suspects I’m coming.”

Arcturus said nothing to comfort me on that front.

The three of us returned to street level. “Soldiers,” I said to the others. “We should be able to avoid them if we’re careful.”

“Careful.” Léandre stared at me, nostrils flaring. “We are dead if they get one glimpse of us.”

“So we don’t let them,” I said. “If you want to turn back, you can guard the cemetery. I’m going in.”

He looked away. Renelde laid a hand on his arm.

“Léandre,” she said. He glanced down at her and gave a stiff nod.

We made our way north through the never-ending snow, still avoiding the wider streets. The side entrance to the palace would take us into the gardens near a fountain that had once been called the Bassin de Neptune. From there, we could assess the rear defenses.

Three dreamscapes were just ahead of us. A trio of Vigiles were stationed behind iron railings, next to a guardhouse with a mansard roof. None of them had their weapons at the ready.

We took shelter in a doorway, out of sight. “There is no way around those three.” Léandre motioned to Ankou, who drew his axe. “Mal, you tempt them out.”

“I’ve got it,” I said.

Malperdy frowned. “What?”

In answer, I leapt from my body and flashed between their dreamscapes. By the time I returned, all three Vigiles had collapsed, and the taste of blood smeared the back of my throat.

We approached the boundary together. Malperdy climbed the wall beside the railings, sprang across to the guardhouse roof, and dropped back to the ground in a crouch. The rest of us followed him. And just like that, we were over the boundary, into the heart of Sheol II.

The Bassin de Neptune was full of frozen water. Sculptures that must once have served as fountains were now bone dry and dressed in moss. One of them held a dull gold trident.

The palace loomed on high, silhouetted by the moonlight. Most of its windows were dark. A snow-laden forest stood between us and its walls. I thought of one of the stories Arcturus had told me, about a princess cursed to sleep forever in a castle ringed by thorns.

Snow glistened in my hair. Renelde was in the lead, with me just behind to warn her of incoming Vigiles. There were about thirty dreamscapes in the gardens, each a trap that one wrong turn could spring.

We passed more stagnant water, where statues wallowed, before we reached the opening that led into the nearest grove, and the rusted gate that blocked our way. Renelde broke through a snowbank, revealing a hollow beneath, and slid under, leaving clouds of breath in her wake. When I followed, the corner of the gate cut deep into my left calf. I bit down a hiss.

“Careful.” Malperdy reached through the bars to touch my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Think so.”

Hot pain swelled from the cut as I crawled after Renelde. In the distance, a storm was gathering. If our luck held out, the sound of it would mask our approach.

Thick foliage tangled over our heads, heavy with powder. The plants had long since broken their bounds and overrun the footpath. Twigs rolled against my knees, buried under the snow, and twigs snared on my hair.

When a bank of cloud snuffed the moon, we all fell still, our breathing heavy. I couldn’t see a thing until Renelde switched on her headlamp and angled it so it was visible to all of us. We followed it, up to our elbows in snow. It seeped into the cuffs of my gloves and chilled the back of my neck. I reached the end of the path with a raw nose and numb lips, covered in dead leaves.

I stopped.

A figure stood guard in the grove, at the top of the steps that would take us closer to the palace. A flicker of lightning revealed a dark-haired Rephaite. Beside me, Renelde lay flat on her stomach, her lamp extinguished. When she reached for her gun, I caught her wrist.

Somewhere behind me, a twig cracked. The Rephaite turned in a swing of cloak. Fear paralyzed me. Renelde started to crawl backward, breathing hard.

A shadow brushed past. Arcturus. I made a vain grab for his coat, swallowing a sound of protest, but he was already in the open, hailing the other Rephaite in Gloss.

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